


Spring Cleaning

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkwardness, Fluff and Crack, House Cleaning, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He hears a clanging noise, but not like the bucket meeting the pavement.<br/>Like the bucket meeting flesh.<br/>Oh no.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Cleaning

The beginning of the Spring cleaning is fairly easy.

Kurt is in his old Hummel Garage shirt and ratty yoga pants–the ones that are super soft but frayed at the bottom, with an elastic that is so old that Kurt actually has to roll it at the waist to keep it from falling–and he has three plastic bags around him but it’s for a good cause.

One bag is for the dumpster.

One bag is for the recycling bin.

One bag is to take to the homeless shelter, with his old clothes and the books he has grown tired of.

But once that is done, once the apartment looks emptier and cleaner, there is a new task that rises up at the top of Kurt’s list like something obvious.

The windows.

The big ass glass panels that made Kurt fall in love with the place when he visited it, but now that Kurt can really look at them, they look disgusting.

Dust and pollution and something Kurt doesn’t want to identify make for a layer of grime that is darkening his apartment, and Kurt needs to shed some lights on his life.

So he gets a bucket of warm, soapy water, a handful of rags and he gets started.

First he cleans the windows from the inside, and it already makes a difference; but it’s fairly obvious that the worst is on the other side.

Kurt works methodically, washing each square of glass until he’s satisfied that it’s the best he can get without needing more chemical products as he sings under his breath.

“ _Because you know I’m all about that bass_

_‘Bout that bass_

_‘Bout that bass, no treble …_ ”

Kurt sings along, attacking the last window–the biggest panel, he saved it for last on purpose–and putting the bucket on the windowsill to avoid ruining his back.

Kurt dips his sponge in the bucket–the water is still soapy but distinctively dirtier now–, squeezes it and starts scrubbing.

“. _.. But I can shake it, shake it,_

 _Like I’m supposed to do …_ ”

Kurt can’t help it, his hips have to follow the music of the song that he’s singing, and he does shake it shake it.

Except that he’s a little bit too enthusiastic about it, and his hip connect with the bucket.

The bucket shakes it too, trembles, and then the water sloshing inside tips it over, and Kurt sees it falling down street side in slow motion.

Not slow enough that he can catches it, and he closes his eyes, bracing himself from the clanging noise and the occasional shouts because of the splashing water.

Instead, he hears a clanging noise, but not like the bucket meeting the pavement.

Like the bucket meeting flesh.

Oh no.

Followed by a startled shout and then an anthology of curses and profanities.

Kurt is out of the apartment, throwing the sponge to the floor and picking a towel on his way, before the end of the third “fuck”, rushing to the stranger’s help.

–

When Kurt opens the door to the building, the man is holding the bucket, one hand gingerly poking the back of his head–oh, curly hair–, his pink shirt sticking to his arms and torso, and Kurt definitely needs a moment to compose himself.

Because oh wow.

The man winces and groans, and Kurt is back.

“I am so sorry, it was a complete accident,” he explains, offering the towel to the man. “Did my bucket hurt you? Do you want to go to the hospital?”

The man takes the towel and drops it on his head, patting at his hair instead of rubbing. Kurt can’t help but notice how it makes his arms flex and move in his short sleeves. “No, no hospital, it will be fine.”

The man’s voice comes muffled from under the towel, but Kurt finds it incredibly attractive–makes sense since he finds the man pretty damn attractive as it is.

“Do you–come on,” Kurt starts asking, but he makes a decision. “Let me offer you the usage of my shower and my washing machine, it’s the very least I can do.”

The man freezes in his patting, and lifts one corner of the towel to look at Kurt.

The towel ends up around the man’s neck and Kurt looks into a pair of warm brown eyes.

Eyes that are actually checking him out, if he’s not mistaken.

“Shower and washing machine?”

“Lots of hot water, I promise,” Kurt confirms.

“Throw in it some coffee and I’ll consider it.”

Kurt smiles at the man he clocked with his bucket and offers his hand. “Deal–I’m Kurt.”

“Blaine.”

—

Blaine only wanted to discover Brooklyn.

He’s lived in New York for three months now, but he has yet to visit the boroughs. And everybody always says that Brooklyn is the place that is up and coming, so he took advantage of his Spring Break–from college and from work–to get a coffee, get a croissant, get in the train and start walking around.

He’s particularly interested in the Street art Walk, and he walks from the graffitis and installations in Williamsburgh to the middle of Bushwick, letting his eyes find the path for him without thinking.

There are less art here in Bushwick, but it’s still an interesting place to be, lots of industrial buildings turned into actual buildings–Blaine would bet that there are lots of lofts, look at those big windows and–

Who turned off the lights?

More importantly, who clogged him on the top of his head?

“Motherfucker, that hurts, what the Hell, fuck …,” okay so maybe he has a lewd mouth when he’s in pain.

Blaine blindly reaches for whatever landed on his head–a bucket, from the feel of it–and passes his hand from the back to the top of his head, careful not ot press down too hard.

Ow.

A man rushes out of the building, wearing a shirt that is too tight and a pair of yoga pants that are begging to be pulled down those legs–not now, Brain. The man immediately starts apologizing, offering a towel that Blaine is only too happy to take to get some of the water out of his face, out of his hair, out of his … nevermind, his shirt is done for.

And then the man’s melodious voice talks about a shower and a washing machine, and Blaine looks at him.

Because as generous as it sounds, it could be a serial killer trap.

But the man really is gorgeous, and he looks really apologetic, and those pants …

“Shower and washing machine?”

—

While Blaine is in the shower to wash his hair, Kurt applies his stain remover to Blaine’s shirt before putting it in the machine with his own laundry.

The shower is shut down and Kurt tries not to pour coffee all over his kitchen counter when Blaine comes out of his bathroom and steam follows out.

Oh my.

And he’s wearing Kurt’s sweatpants but they’re too long on him, of course, so they sit low on his hips and pool over his feet, and isn’t that drool-cuddle worthy?

Kurt decides to silence the part of him that wants to follow that hipbone with his tongue and clears his throat. “The laundry should be done in fifteen to twenty minutes,” he tells Blaine, holding up a clean shirt.

“Thanks,” Blaine says, quickly putting the shirt on–Kurt can’t help but observe the way it doesn’t stretch over the shoulders like it does on him, but does highlight Blaine’s biceps–before looking up, hair wet but clean now. “If I may, what were you doing when your bucket decided to take a dive?”

Kurt chuckles at that phrasing and gestures towards the window. “Spring cleaning.”

Before he knows it, the two are discussing the merits of waiting for April or May to clean one’s apartment versus keeping the apartment mostly clean all year long.

Blaine argues pretty passionately for the latter, and Kurt is quite happy to let him rant about the advantages of regularly cleaning around the place, if only because “it saves me a gym membership Kurt you have no idea”.

Kurt blames the comfort of it all, the easy conversation and the fact that Blaine is so warm next to him for what comes out of his mouth next.

“I can tell.”

Only to clamp his mouth shut, eyes wide and praying to be swallowed by his couch.

Blaine flushes prettily and smiles at Kurt. “Well thank you,” he replies, giving Kurt a jaunty little salute. “And not to imply that you need to go to a gym, far from it.”

They’re both blushing like fools, smiling shyly and focusing on what is left in their cups.

Blaine opens his mouth, and Kurt really wants to know what he wants to say, but they are interrupted by the loud beep of Kurt’s washing machine.

“Don’t worry about drying it,” Blaine says as he stands up alongside Kurt, “i’ll just–”

“What, go home shirtless?” Kurt asks with a snort.

“Nope,” Blaine says, a crooked smile on his face. “I’ll just borrow yours, since it’s so comfy, and I’ll just return it to you at a later date.”

Kurt feels himself heating up but he still smiles at Blaine, wide enough to make his cheeks hurt but he recovers, clearing his throat and straightening his shirt.

“Ah,” he says, acting nonchalant,  "a clever way to extort a second meeting out of me?“

Blaine clutches his chest, looking disappointed. "Alas,” he says dejectedly, “you saw right through my masterplan.”

Kurt bites on his lower lip to keep from giggling aloud. “That’s alright,” he replies, reaching to pat Blaine’s shoulder, “i kind of like that plan.”

“Well then,” Blaine says with a new sparkle in his eyes, “where do you want to meet?”

“Somewhere a little bit fancier,” Kurt says, “with food?”

“Sounds like a d–,” Blaine starts before turning a new shade of red, “like a plan.”

They’re standing at the threshold after exchanging their phone numbers and Kurt leans against the door. “A man with a plan,” he simply says and Blaine nods.

“A man with a plan,  that’s me to the T. I’ll call you … Kurt.”

“Looking forward to it … Blaine.”

Kurt lets himself slide to the floor, his back to the door once he closes it.

Definitely not how he pictured his Spring cleaning going, but it’s the best Spring cleaning ever.

And isn’t that all Spring is about, rebirth and new beginnings?

* * *

 

AND AS A BONUS

_Completely gratuitous picture of Wet Darren ^^_


End file.
